


Wanderlust

by Fanfreluche



Series: Dresden - Montana - Berlin [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Eighties, Anal Sex, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 12:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfreluche/pseuds/Fanfreluche
Summary: Summer of 1988, Arthur can’t stop listening to Tracy Chapman and John has just formed a band…





	Wanderlust

The smell of thinner calmed him. Sometimes it gave him a light headache, but it didn’t matter. As a scent, it was all his, had nothing to do with the ranch or any particular person, coated the memories he had of the attic in a more colourful tint. Once upon a time the attic had been his bedroom, the only place his father couldn’t get to. His old man tried, of course, but by the time he wanted to have their little chats he was often too drunk to climb the ladder. He’d somehow never had the heart to remove the ladder entirely, yet the fact of its being there didn’t help to decrease the amount of guilt that consumed him when in the morning he invariably happened upon his unconscious Pa sprawled on the floor at the foot of the ladder. And so, years later, it had taken him a good bit of reflecting to decide whether he wanted to use the attic as a studio or not… Times like these, when he was doing what he truly enjoyed, he actually liked the creaky old farmhouse. Still, the sound of footsteps on the ladder gave him pause. He relaxed on realising they were younger, faster. 

“You never get tired of this song, huh?”

“I like the entire album,” He daubed a thick trace of green paint on the canvas. “You just happen to catch me when I’m listening to this one.”

The fragrance of coffee was welcome - adding to the pleasure of listening to Chapman’s ‘Fast Car’ - and unexpected. Marston seldom did him favours like this, unless he wanted something.

“What do you want?” Arthur asked, accepting the cup that was offered him. Black with no sugar, the way he liked it.

“Just coming to see what you’re painting…” Marston yawned, though it was nearly three in the afternoon. “Is that Tilly?”

“Yeah, it’s her birthday soon,” He explained, wiping the two brushes he was holding in his hand on a piece of cloth before submerging them in water, watching it turn a touch darker. “But don’t tell her, it’s Mary-Beth’s surprise.”

“Are they an item now or just roommates?” 

“Never asked them…” He lowered his eyes, inhaling as he felt John’s left arm wrapping around his shoulder loosely.

John bent and kissed him on the lips, too quickly done, tasting of sweet coffee. “Let’s go to the town today, see a movie. It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

“Last time we went you made me watch _Crocodile Dundee II_ and _Rambo III_ back to back…” He lifted a hand and took John’s, smearing a bit of yellow on his palm as he stroked it gently. “Not falling for that anymore.”

“I swear _Diehard_ is good! Least I’ve heard so…” John kissed him again, on the cheek this time. “Come on, we’ll go to Trelawny’s picturehouse, he always has weird shit you like, we’ll watch one of your choices after. Pretty sure the box office girl said they had a Jarman coming soon.”

“Which Jarman?” Arthur’s interest piqued. He didn’t want to look too excited, but couldn’t help it. 

“Don’t remember, but we’ll see!”

“Sure,” He eyed Marston suspiciously, wiped his hands clean on his already stained blue jeans and got up. “But no popcorn during Jarman!” If there was a Jarman, which he very much doubted...

A couple of hours later they were speeding down the empty road in Arthur’s ancient convertible coupe Chevrolet, drinking beer and listening to Chapman, until John got fed up and started rummaging the glove compartment for different cassettes. 

“Dylan, Clapton, Joplin, Cash… Seriously? What did you do with the mixed tape I gave you?” 

“That stuff you listen to is too loud for my poor old ears, Johnny boy. Recorded Hank Williams on it,” Arthur grinned mischievously at an offended Marston, then chugged some beer while intoning some of the said singer’s songs.

“Fuck you!” John threw the cassettes into the glove compartment, snapped it shut and turned on the radio.

The broadcaster explained that the song that had just come to an end was ‘It’s a Sin’ by Pet Shot Boys, a request by one John Mark Mercier, and she encouraged him to have a more positive outlook on life. She then announced that they would be playing the best of Dire Straits for the next hour. 

“Damn, I like that song,” Arthur sighed, sorry to have missed it. 

“Yeah that’s just like you…” John threw his empty can out into the wild and opened another. “OH I LOVE THIS!” 

Marston turned up the volume as high as it would go, began bouncing on his seat and playing air guitar, singing ‘Money for Nothing’ at the top of his voice, wind blowing in his hair.

Arthur raised an eyebrow without taking his eyes off the road. “Don’t see how you can like it, ain’t exactly flattering…”

“Don’t be an ass, Arthur! It’s all about perspective… Besides, the song’s about me!” John grinned and continued hollering: “This little faggot’s gonna be a millionaire… I’ll show them all, yeah!”

Arthur watched John whenever he had a chance, laughing in amazement at how shy the boy sometimes was and how in the blink of an eye he transformed into the exact opposite, howling along with the Straits, replacing ‘chicks’ with ‘dicks’. 

“You get your dicks for free anyway, don’t you, boy?” Arthur smirked and had to push John away when he suddenly dove towards his crotch and began fumbling with the zipper, munching on the outline of his cock. He did it just in time too, since right then they passed Tom Dickens on his tractor, waving at them. “Jesus, John, that was close!” Arthur waved back.

“You’re no fun, old man…” 

Thankfully Marston calmed down once the song came to an end and settled in his seat, resumed drinking and lit a cigarette.

“Gimme one too,” Arthur turned the volume up again at the next song. “Now this is a good one.”

“Boring… It’s Abi’s favourite, with all the Romeo and Juliet crap. You guys should get married or something…”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to murmur the lyrics, partly to pretend he hadn’t heard Marston’s stupid remark and partly to forget it. After murmuring bits of the song for a while, he glanced at John. He was moping and frowning now. The boy has his moods alright; it was one of his cute attributes. 

He serenaded Marston playfully, lightly punching him on the arm as he called him his ‘pretty stranger’ among other things, then ruffling his hair and pulling him into a soft lingering kiss, which sort of did the trick, cause when they separated and the car swerved back onto the road, John was smiling. He even began singing, enthusiasm mounting as he went on, poking Arthur in the abs as payback, then stealing his cowboy hat and putting it on his own head, handing him another beer which he refused, instead reaching to give John’s bum a tight squeeze.

Soon they were singing together, with a sort of harmonious competitiveness as each tried to drown the other’s voice, of dying Juliets, of loving to death, stars for witnesses, and a place for just the two of-

“Pull over,” John suddenly interjected. “I need to piss.”

Arthur pulled over at the gas station, filled the tank while John went to do his business. Waved hello at Pearson who was standing outside his convenience store, then parked the car under the shade of a chestnut tree while he waited for Marston to return, leaving the radio on as he lit himself another cigarette. His head felt naked without his hat.

“Howdy, cowboy!”

“Mrs Adler!” Arthur grinned at Sadie. “Going to town?”

Sadie jumped down from her jeep and leant against the car next to Arthur. “Returning. Got some groceries, gonna cook something nice tonight.”

“Poor Jake… Ouch!” He winced when Sadie elbowed him and held his cigarette for her to light hers with.

“It’s not for _poor_ Jake, actually,” She explained. “Got this bright college kid staying with us for summer as an extra hand. Name’s Lenny, he’s studying Law but wanted to work on the ranch in his summer break.”

“Why?” Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I was sceptical at first too, but he was insistent so I let him have a try. Kid is a fast learner, don’t regret it at all.”

“So you gonna poison him now?” He flashed her a cheeky smile.

“Hey! My cooking ain’t that bad! Not as good as Jake’s, but he’s gone on a trip...”

“You still practising for the rodeo?” Arthur changed the subject now that he’d made enough fun of Mrs Adler’s cooking, which was ok, but paled in comparison to her husband’s.

“Sure!” Sadie’s smiled widened. “Been training with Bob every day. We’ll win this year too.” 

Arthur nodded and chuckled. He was surprised anyone wished to compete against Sadie, who was the best in the state and had a cupboard full of trophies to show for it. And she was never a happy loser... 

“How’ve you been? John still living off you?”

“Heh, yeah…” He shook his head but his smile had some fondness in it. In a way he liked taking care of Marston, it was one of the things that made him happy in life. “He’s converted the old barn into a studio, made a band for himself with guess who?”

“Hmm, been out in the sun too much today, mind’s not working. You tell me.”

“Uncle plays the bass guitar, Swanson the keyboard, and Abigail is on the drums.”

“You’re kidding me!” Sadie almost choked on her smoke. “So we have what… An alcoholic banjo player, a druggie church organist, and an angry ex?”

“And don’t forget, all of them lead by Marston… And the funny thing is, it works pretty well! They ain’t half bad.”

“You never know, huh?” Sadie scratched her neck and chuckled. “I’m surprised Abigail still hangs around though.”

“Yeah, well, for Jack’s sake I guess,” Arthur lowered his head and stamped out his cigarette butt with a boot. 

“Yeah, okay, well best of luck to John! We’ll make sure to come to his concert,” She winked and waved goodbye as she climbed into the jeep.

Arthur waved back and sighed, wondering what the hell was taking John so long. He reckoned he should go and have a look. He walked towards the building and had yet to turn a corner when he heard John’s raspy laughter. His heart sank to the very bottom. He had heard that laugh before and knew what he would see if he took a look, but he had to. Just like he had the other times. And sure as daylight was bright, Marston was standing next to a Harley-Davidson, an elbow leaning on the handlebar, stroking the vehicle slowly with his other hand as he flirted with the biker dude straddling it, his large hand resting on the other’s slender waist, drawing him close. He didn’t wait to see the make out session this time and turned back before he was seen, retracing his steps to the car, got in, started the car and slammed into the rear gear, pressing his feet on the pedals, rapidly turned the wheel and sped away. 

He didn’t blame Marston. Couldn’t. They had never talked about their relationship, never decided it would be an exclusive affair. He didn’t even know if he wanted that. Even the thought of it made him feel trapped. And he had promised himself he wouldn’t trap the boy either, who was about a decade younger than him, had all his life ahead of him still. And yet, every time he saw John with no matter which random stranger, there was that needling sensation in his chest, knowing he had no right to…

It was already early evening when Arthur got back to the ranch. He had taken a longer road on purpose, to give him some time to think, then realised it was a bad idea, even with the radio turned off. As soon as he had parked the car in the garage, he headed for his studio, only to find the Reverend sniffing thinner again, stretched out at the foot of the easel. He dragged the man out and put him to bed on the sofa in the living room. With the creative mood gone, the next best thing was tending to the horses. He went to the stable and first began cleaning the stalls, then Boadicea and Wystan, both of whom were in a tranquil mood which transferred to him as he brushed their smooth coats, their manes and tails, gently stroking their muzzles. He never quite understood why some people chose to shave the wispy hair. He had just fed Boadi a carrot when he heard some strange noises from a dark corner of the stable. Arthur grabbed the rake and headed in the sound’s direction on stealth mode…

“What the fuck, Uncle…”

The old man continued snoring even as he kicked him on the leg and wouldn’t wake up, so he let him be, removed the empty whiskey bottle from his hand, then threw a horse blanket over him. No need to hear more lumbago rants than necessary in the morning...

It was still light when he left the stables. He badly needed to take a shower, so he did just that. He knew he needed to go over the accounts, but postponed them to tomorrow, again. He didn’t really have the mindspace to think about bank loans at the moment. Starting to feel hungry, Arthur headed towards the kitchen, put on some music, donned a floral apron, placed some water in the pot to boil.

Soon Arthur was swinging his ass to left and right, flexing his saucery skills and singing out loud to ‘Babooshka’, and so he didn’t notice a car stopping outside.

“Hey, Arthur,” Abigail entered through the kitchen door. 

“Shit!” He almost cut his finger chopping tomatoes. “Hi, sorry…”

She was carrying a largish tupperware which she placed on the table. “I made some walnut cake, thought I’d share with you guys. John likes them.”

“Much obliged,” Arthur smiled and moved to reduce the volume. “How’s Jack?”

“Fine, at swimming class, hates it though…” She looked about, obviously looking for Marston. A piece of paper folded in her hand drew Arthur’s attention. 

“He’s not here, went to town some hours ago,” He explained without being asked. “I’ll give it to him.” He took the drawing which was of a happy family of three, smiling sun and dog and all. He sighed and stuck it to the fridge, as a reminder that he didn’t feel enough responsible for ‘stealing’ John away from Abigail. Watching her going through the kitchen utensils, checking the fridge and cupboards, he wondered if the two of them weren’t in a very similar situation after all. The thought made him angry so he let it go, proceeded instead to chop garlics. 

“What are you making?” 

“Pasta.”

“Again?” 

“Yeah.”

Neither talked for a few moments. Abigail was now diligently wiping the counters.

“Is John coming back to the house tonight?” She asked at length, her hands propped on her hips, eyeing him impatiently, or so it seemed to him. 

He smiled to notice how she never called his place John’s ‘home’, it was always the house or the farmhouse. “I don’t know. He doesn’t always tell me his plans.”

“And you’re okay with that?” She raised an eyebrow.

Arthur shrugged. She shifted on her feet. He could tell she wanted something, and knew very well what it would be.

“Look, Arthur-”

“No need to say it,” He searched a cupboard and opened a tin box, taking out two hundred dollars. “It’s not much, I’m afraid… If you needed more later on, let me know.” The cattle had been getting ill lately and there were associated medical expenses, but that was his problem to deal with. 

“I wish it weren’t like this,” Abigail accepted the money. “I wish I didn’t have to ask, but it’s hard…”

“I know,” He smiled, tapped her on the shoulder. “Still working at the clinic?”

“No, the dentist was harassing me, had to leave.” 

“You want me to rough him up?” He immediately asked, feeling the blood rush to his neck and ears. 

“No, don’t want his kids to bully Jack in school… Anyway, I should go now. Thanks for the-” She waved the cash.

“Don’t mention it...”

Arthur had his dinner in silence, reading the latest Sydney Sheldon volume Mary-Beth had asked him to read for her book club - which consisted of herself, Tilly, Arthur, Beau Gray and Penelope Braithewaite who came just to flirt and this Canadian trapper dude whose name he never managed to remember. He had almost finished eating when the door opened and a soaking Marston stepped in. Arthur hadn’t even realised it was raining.

“You left me hanging, you bastard!”

“Your biker friend didn’t give you a lift?”

He could tell from the boy’s expression that that was exactly the case. John turned away as he began stripping off his clothes and throwing them into the wash basket. Arthur continued reading and pushed him away when he tried to hug him from behind. 

“You’re wet.”

“Dry me then.”

“You’ve got some nerve…” He turned to glare at him.

“I didn’t fuck him,” John claimed and stopped bothering him for a moment. Then there were some noises, the light was switched off and Chapman’s ‘Baby Can I Hold You’ filled the kitchen. 

“Oh, that’s cheap!” He dropped his fork in the plate and spun his chair around to see John fully naked except for his hat which he was still wearing, to Arthur’s surprise.

“Forgive me...” John quietly mouthed with the music, body glistening in the little light that came from the corridor, approaching him and putting his arms around his shoulders.

He didn’t resist when John kissed him, but he didn’t kiss him back. The boy straddled him and hugged him tight, knocking the hat off.

“Hold me...” Marston whispered in his ear, giving it a teasing lick as he ground against his growing arousal, moistness seeping from his skin into Arthur’s T-shirt and jeans. He then withdrew and looked Arthur in the eyes, pupils blown wide, making his eyes look darker than usual.

“That the best you can do, boy?”

He let hands trace John’s naked flanks and hips, and he wondered... the cassette jammed. John removed himself from his lap and dragged him up by his hand, leading him to the bedroom upstairs, holding the same hand.

Once the bedroom door was closed - they’d learned to do this after Swanson burst in unannounced once - Marston moved to remove his T-shirt and Arthur let him but there the extent of his patience ended. Clasping the boy by the nape of his neck, he drew him into a fierce kiss before throwing him onto the bed. He wrapped a hand around John’s cock and began pulling on it roughly as his mouth explored the moist skin of his sensitive belly, shifting higher to nip and suck on the darkened nipples. He always loved John’s inviting reactions whenever he played with his nipples, the way he thrashed and mewled, bucking his hips, leaking pre-cum, lost in the sensation of receiving pleasure.

Once John was fully erect and throbbing, Arthur retreated from the bed, circling it till he was positioned on the other side. He hooked his arms under John’s and pulled him towards himself until his head was nearly dangling from the edge of the bed. He braced it on a hand and guided his half-hard shaft to his welcoming lips.

“Better relax, darling,” Arthur hummed, eyes levelled on John’s upside down face. “Tonight I feel like going in deep…”

He didn’t give John much time to think before pushing his length into the boy’s deliciously warm and wet mouth, hissing to feel the twirl of a sneaky tongue around his head, which he abruptly inserted into Marston’s throat. He still gagged, after years of practicing, but to be fair he was pretty big so he couldn’t exactly blame him… And the gag reflex nicely coated his cock with spit, letting him ease his way back in after an initial withdrawal. He repeated the slow thrusts a few more times until John seemed to have gotten used to the intrusion, which was when he began holding his cock in for longer periods of time, enjoying the tickling sensation of the boy’s breaths on his balls. Arthur grunted and almost came when John’s throat convulsed around his shaft, but pulled back instantly to feel hands desperately tapping on his thighs.

“Fuck me proper, Morgan,” Marston demanded, panting as he palmed his own cock. “I’m close already…”

Arthur smirked and made a show of contemplating, rubbing his full-mast cock all over John’s face and mouth, which he fucked in a couple of shallow thrusts, until he finally relented when John started clawing at his hips.

“Get your ass here then, little millionaire,” He barked and John was on all fours in a second, presenting his ass before him.

Arthur opened the nightstand drawer and took out some lube and condoms. Used the one on his own aching cock and the other on John’s twitching hole, fingering the latter until it was left gaping when he withdrew his digits. He then pushed a confused John to the side and sat himself on the bed, back resting against the headboard.

“Ride it.” He grabbed his prick and waved it at John, who immediately scrambled onto his lap, impaling himself of the shaft in one, two, three shoves that left them both gasping. 

Fuck, he was tight… Not as tight as he had been in the beginning, he’d made sure of that. But still tight enough that it took all of his willpower not to explode at that very moment. He didn’t want to deny himself the pleasure of watching Marston bounce up and down on his cock, moaning in abandon as he got his own high from the girth, pausing occasionally to pepper his face with little kisses and bites and licks, whose soft unexpectedness sent shivers down Arthur’s back.

At some point it wasn’t just enough clasping the boy’s hips and pistoning into him from below. With a deep growl, Arthur lifted John up, twisted his sweat-soaked frame around and pressed him into the mattress on his belly, holding his head down and he fucked into his yielding hole with long measured strokes that became less and less controlled as he neared his peak. He reached and gripped the boy’s balls and that did it for them both. Their animalistic grunts fused into an urgent roar as they both released, Arthur a little later than John, the side of whose neck he bit hard for every motherfucking biker to see and be warned that they were trespassing so they couldn’t complain later when he bashed their heads in.

Panting as they lay on the bed, naked limbs entwined, they heard Uncle singing a Hank Williams song. He must be sitting under the window for his voice to be heard so clearly. Normally, Arthur wasn’t particularly keen on the old man’s yodeling, but now, with the touch of a gentle breeze cooling the sweat off his skin, his lover held in his embrace, he found the melodious sound of banjo strings very pleasant. He tilted his head and kissed John tenderly.

“Let’s go to Berlin,” John said as soon as their mouths separated. 

The song spoke of the call of open roads.

“Berlin? As in Germany?” Arthur was not a little surprised by the suggestion. “Why?” 

John remained silent and brooding for a while, so Arthur repeated his question, lifting his chin up his chest to look him in the eyes.

“That fellow I was talking to earlier at the gas station was listening to some band called the Toten something, said they’re having a concert in Berlin.” John shifted and rolled on top of Arthur, chest pressed to chest, so he could feel his heart hammering against his. “I wanna go, and you always say how you like to see Europe.”

The song spoke of travelling through mountains and seas.

“Yeah, but with what money?” Arthur ran his fingers through John’s moist locks.

“You ain’t got any savings?”

“Hah, nope…” Arthur chuckled, adding when he saw Marston’s face falling: “Say what, John. If you find a job, any job, and save some money, any amount of money, we’ll go next summer, how about that?” 

“Deal!”

And they sealed it with a handshake.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspirational/featured songs:
> 
> Fast Car - Tracy Chapman  
It's a Sin - Pet Shop Boys  
Money for Nothing - Dire Straits  
Romeo and Juliet - Dire Straits  
Babooshka - Kate Bush  
Baby Can I Hold You - Tracy Chapman  
Ramblin' Man - Hank Williams


End file.
